Tangled Up in Blue
by AnonymousLullaby
Summary: The story of the victor of the 70th Hunger Games, Annie Cresta, from her time in the arena all the way up to her life with Finnick Odair.
1. Back from the Brink

**Author's Note: **

**This disclaimer is meant for the entire story: I do not own The Hunger Games series in any way, shape, or form.**

I didn't realize how many fanfics there are about Annie's story until after I started writing, so I am sincerely sorry if mine resembles a story you have written about Annie or one that you have come across on the site and I would greatly appreciate it if you let me know so that I can change my story up a bit more, thank you =]

And thank you to anyone who reads this, even if you don't review. This is my first Hunger Games fanfiction-I just finished the trilogy and it was absolutely amazing! I hope I did these wonderful books some justice =]

Love,

AL

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><p>I thought that I was immune but as it turns out, no one is. It was silly to ever think otherwise. I don't mention any of this to the boy beside me. We've only just met and even that was a fluke-I wouldn't even know his name if I hadn't been too preoccupied vomiting what little was left in my stomach to flee. My eyes peer up from out of the water to watch him poke at the twinkling embers of his growing fire with a stick. One shoots into the air with a distinctive crackle as the logs shift and for a moment his pale eyes flicker my way.<p>

"You should probably get out of there soon; you won't have any warm clothes to wear when night falls."

I dip my head beneath the surface and suck in deep, filling my mouth with the cool spring water before tilting it to the sky to spout it back out like a whale. "I can't," I inform him as a bit of water trickles down my chin and plops down into the stream. When he first rescued me he forced water into my limp body, pushing it down my convulsing throat, but I couldn't taste it. It didn't fill my mouth or dance over my tongue but rather leapt straight into me-I was drinking so fast that it bypassed my mouth completely and I could hardly feel its soothing qualities as I swallowed. I never want to feel that way again.

So I lie on my back in the stream, which is hardly deep enough to cover the entire surface of my body.

"And why is that?" he voice holds a peculiar sense of curiosity within every time he speaks-a kind of something that I have never heard before. "I don't want to dry out again," I murmur, my eyes focused on the fading twilit sky. He snorts and I can hear the fire begin to crackle again, thrusting the tiniest tinge of smoke into the air. For some reason his response hurts, but I know that it shouldn't. I shouldn't expect any kindness from this boy, maybe he is truly a cruel person. I would have absolutely no idea what kind of response is and isn't likely to come out of his mouth. He could kill me on the spot and I certainly wouldn't have known if that was his character or if the instinct of a decent guy just now kicked in.

_If he didn't kill you when you were dying then he won't do it now. _

Maybe that is part of his plan…maybe he's only _acting _like the hero…

"Really, you should come out now. I don't want to have to drag your waterlogged butt to safety if another tribute shows up."

I sit up a little too fast and all of the water that had been resting on my limbs rises into the air along with me before noisily plunking back into the water. My sleek dark hair tingles as it drips water down my back and I allow myself a moment of distraction to watch the tiny fish dart away from the ripples I create while hoisting myself out of the stream. The sun, having just exploded warmth throughout the rest of the sky, is barely visible behind the trees and with the coming darkness comes the wind.

_You should have gotten out sooner._

Dusk is soon approaching and even with the fire I'll have to bear the freezing cold that lies in store for me. I peel off my shirt and then more hesitantly, my pants. I pull on the pair of socks that I had been sensible enough, even in a state of fatal dehydration, to leave out in the sun. They are warm against my toes as I sit down in my underclothes, already trying not to shiver, by mess of embers that is slowly rising into a fire. "Are all people from district four so attached to the water?" I glance up at the boy and his electricity in his blue eyes startle me. I shake my head and wrap my arms around my legs, pulling them closer into me, "Is everyone in district seven attached to their trees?"

A trace of a smile plays on my lips as he raises his eyebrows in surprise, "how do you know my district?"

"You made a fire…without any fire. You clearly know your wood."

A smug, satisfied look crosses his face as he leans back, "I'm Theo."

"Just Theo?" I question and he shrugs, "nothing but."

"Annie Cresta," I reply with a smile which, to my immediate surprise, he returns. That's when I realize he's leaning against a small gray duffel bag and my eyes light with interest but I keep my mouth shut. "Are you going to fish us some dinner or is up to me tonight?"

The way he says the last part of that sentence makes it sound like there will be more nights like this. This worries me. I can't afford to drag anyone down when I know that I'm only going to die. And fast. Everyone thinks so; even the male tribute from my district who was supposed to be my friend took off running as if sticking together was never an option. I narrow my eyes, "what makes you think that I can fish?"

He laughs, although not in a mean way. No, he is much more amused as he unzips his bag, "That's your district's specialty-fishing, right?"

I glance down at the fire as he rustles through the bag. It must be pretty full because it takes a while before he pulls something out of it. I don't meet his gaze. This is where he'll find out everything-the reason why I will never be able to survive. This is where he will leave me to my fate and I will drag myself back into the dessert to wither away. He's paused, waiting for my answer. I take a deep breath and quietly admit the truth, "It is, but I can't…I can't kill things."

I'm startled, frightened, almost, as he laughs again. His eyes have the same peculiar curiosity of his tone floating in them. "Not even fish?"

"No, especially not fish."

"So tell me, Annie Cresta," he begins, popping a strip of dried meat into his mouth and then offering me one as well. "What is this?" I interrupt-it looks questionable. Smells like it too. "Squirrel."

I study the thick, jagged strip. It reminds me of bark.

Theo continues lightly, "You know things about me-about all of us. You observe, don't you? I noticed it during our time in the training center. You're quiet but really you were just watching all of us."

I'm not sure if he's talking me up to boost my ratings but the girl he speaks of doesn't sound familiar. Was I really watching, or was my mind zoned in on some far off place? I don't even know. "There are so many things that you must know already while I don't have a clue about you-aside from your recent revelation."

"Alright," I comment, trying to see where this is going, before taking a small bite of the jerky. It tastes like bark too. I take another bite, grinding the thick creature hard against my back teeth. It's far from the meals we were fed in the Capitol but I haven't eaten since day one and hunger gets the best of me.

"It would only be fair for you to explain to me why you don't kill things."

I narrow my eyes. I can't figure out what type of person this guy is. A thin layer of darkness has settled over the sky, concealing the smoke of our quaint fire. I inch closer to the flames, knowing that the winds are going to begin once it is dark enough for the stars to shine through.

A gentle breeze is already stirring. I begin to shiver and with great reluctance, tell this stranger a bit of my story before the full force of the night rains down upon us. The flames illuminate his face and I try not to look away as the shadows dance around his enchanted eyes. "I just…_can't._ It's unfathomable to me…the thought of harming anyone…anything…I guess the best explanation is that well, you know when you burn your hand on a flame?"

He nods studiously, his own hands dangerously close to the fire as I carry on, "I know how much it hurts to get a burn so I would never wish that kind of pain on anyone else…if that makes sense."

For some reason I expect Theo to laugh but he doesn't. He's silent and when I glance back up again his eyes are set on me. I stand up and grab the dripping clothes that I had hung from a tree branch, "It's the same when someone is sad or upset-I hate to see it because I know how hard it is to deal with the pain and while I've obviously never been killed, I wouldn't be able to purposely inflict any sort of unpleasantness on anyone knowing that I wouldn't want it done to myself. And who am I to decide who lives and doesn't? No body's life is mine to take."

"You, Annie Cresta, have a ridiculously overdeveloped sense of empathy. That's tough luck for you."

"Yeah," I frown; squeezing my damp shirt of what little water might remain.

"This is the Hunger Games, baby," he flashes me a cheesy smile; "it's eat or be eaten."

I almost laugh, but then think better of it. "You shouldn't have saved me. Then I could have died, like everyone wanted me to. I refuse to kill anyone so I obviously won't last long."

Theo stands up solemnly, no smiles any more. "You do clearly have a death wish, saying these things out loud, _on camera_."

He pulls something long and black from the duffel bag, "you ran when the gong sounded, right? That's why you have nothing." I nod. I'm curious as to why he asks me questions that he already seems to know. "Use this then." He's offering me the thing that he pulled out from the pack-a sleeping bag.

"I can't," I shake my head, "I told you that I'm just going to die. Let the winds take me or something but stop helping."

His face glowers with persistence, "It's not even my bag. A tribute from twelve dropped it when he was speared."

I force myself not to cringe. "Just for tonight," I state very matter-of-factly.

"As you wish," he smiles and I can't help but trust this boy. I had seen some strange arenas being televised in the past and while this one isn't too peculiar it almost feels like it was specifically designed to kill me. I think of our first day here as I unfold the sleeping bag. The golden cornucopia had dazzled in the scorching heat, placed on a mountain of sand. I had hoped that it was only one patch of sand to make getting to supplies a harder feat but when I looked out over the arena I saw it. Everywhere. It was an ocean of a different kind-waves of hot, rolling sand as far as the eye could see. We were placed in a dessert and the only thing that I could think of as the gong echoed throughout the wasteland was that the game makers had done a wonderful job of getting their point across: No Mercy.

"What will you do when the winds come?" I ask with a bit too much uncertainty. He seems pleased when he's able to give me a sensible answer, "This place I brought you to? It's called on oasis-an island in the sand. The water in the creek comes from an underground well and is the thing that gives life to the trees nearby. I've also noticed that the trees help with the winds. I spent the first night here and it feels like a summer breeze compared to out there on the sand."

I'm so overcome with joy that I feel like hugging this near-stranger. I discovered the winds, as did everyone else, on my first night in the arena. I hadn't seen another contestant since the Games first began so I figured I didn't need much cover. I tried to rest by a cluster of some dead plant when the seventy mile per hour gusts began. The desert just wasn't enough. They needed to trap us in a hurricane-like wind while we tried to sleep as well. The winds don't break until dawn.

I tuck my clothes into the sleeping bag, just in case, and nestle in beside them. Theo lies down beside me, using the duffel bag as a make-shift pillow. "What made you do it?" I can't help but ask as the sky darkens even more. I brace myself for the winds, despite what Theo said.

"Save you?"

I nod. He's staring at the fire, which I'm sure will be out in a matter of minutes. That's another thing about the winds, it means that unless someone has barred themselves in a cave (although I haven't seen a single one yet) then they are in store for a frigid night.

"I don't know," he shrugs, averting his eyes to the sky, "it's never fun to watch someone die of dehydration. There's not nearly enough blood-I was only thinking of the audience."

It isn't until I look at his face that I realize he's teasing. He responds to my scowl with a patronizing smile. The anthem of Panem plays as the stars begin to shine overhead. There are no faces in the sky tonight. No tributes have died. This won't fare well with the Capitol. At day three there should be far more than eight deaths by the end of day three. The sound of the anthem also means that the winds have begun, but so far they have yet to hit us. Maybe Theo's right about this place.

"You're so innocent, little Annie," he says abruptly, causing me to tilt my head back so that I can see his face.

"That's why I saved you."

He doesn't give me time to reply. He rolls over, turning his back to me, just as a cool breeze washes over us. The trees sway slightly, but in the end he's right. The winds don't touch us here. I let out a sigh of relief and for the first time since the games began, I allow my mind to wander away from thoughts of death and survival. I hope that Mama Mags isn't too distraught. I don't mean to be so negative about the Games, I'm only trying to be realistic but I'm sure that my attitude hasn't exactly given my mentor anything to be proud of.

I burrow deeper beneath the sleeping bag. The one good thing about the winds is that no one will be hunting at night. I try to stay vigilant, just in case, but my eyelids feel so heavy...

I think of the ocean as I drift to sleep. Not this horrible sand, but the gentle lapping of the emerald waves with foam that rises up between my toes. I imagine that I'm back home-swimming like it's just another day with the taste of salt on my lips while water birds chatter up above and I am tangled up in blue where I belong.


	2. All Those Expectations

The static comes and goes but for the most part, the picture is clear. Two solemn faces stare at the screen-one an elderly woman whose face is creased with wisdom and the other a mere boy of nineteen. The room is dim and they are still, hardly breathing beside one another, but their eyes reflect the troubles that lie deep within them as they watch their pupils fight to the death.

"A desert, how clever of them-don't you agree, Finnick?" the elderly woman, named Mags, asks grimly.

Although the boy's hands are balled up into fists his voice is calm and even, "I didn't think the girl was going to make it."

"I was surprised that Willem left her to fend on her own too…" Mags breathes in deep, "they appeared to be friends."

"There are no friends in the Games," Finnick reminds her and she nods. She shifts her aching joints into a more comfortable position and murmurs, "Yes, I suppose we would know that above all us."

The pair grows quiet to view the female tribute from district four accept a sleeping bag from another tribute. "Isn't she a little too trusting?" there is no emotion in the Finnick's voice, only a kind of removed curiosity lingers.

"Maybe that's the best thing for her to be in these games-young and naïve. It seems to be playing to her advantage. A possible ally, a warm place to sleep for the night-she's much better off now than she was yesterday."

Finnick nods, growing silent once more as the camera switches to the tribute he had mentored. His tribute seems to be doing fine on his own, having taken refuge beneath a slab of raised rock. The night has a calming effect on the two mentors, as if they understand that for now their two players are safe. It is then that the boy tribute from four reels back from out of the rock, clutching his hand, his face contorted in pain. Finnick nearly leaps forward, forcing himself to stay in his seat, "what happened?"

Mags remains stoic and squints her pale eyes to see more clearly. "It appears that the boy has been bitten by something…and knowing the game makers it is probably a genetically-altered something at that."

"Suck the wound," Finnick murmurs under his breath while gazing steadily at the screen. Only when the boy begins to suck the blood from the puncture holes on his hand does Finnick let out a sigh of relief. "Atta boy," he comments as the camera then switches to a pair of tributes from districts five and nine.

"Willem is very resourceful but I don't think the Careers seem him as a viable threat yet, the odds may be in his favor."

Finnick gives a slight shake of his head and leans back in his seat, "he isn't cautious enough. He shouldn't have been reckless enough to find shelter in such an unfamiliar place."

Mags opens her mouth to defend the young contestant before slowly bringing her lips together to remain firmly closed. She can see the hints of pain in the boy she herself once mentored. She doesn't say another word, knowing how hard it is to even think about losing a child. Whether you are close with them or not, the heart break remains the same.

After a good fifteen minutes the two find themselves looking at their female tribute once again. "I noticed that this girl…she calls you mama. Have you known her for long?" Finnick asks, glancing at Mags. He can't tell if she is surprised by his question-her face shows nothing at all. Mags watches the tribute as she slips into the sleeping bag and a bit of warmth flickers in the elderly woman's eyes. "Yes," her raspy voice is coated with a great sorrow as she speaks, "I helped raise the Cresta children after their mother died. Annie was only seven at the time."

Mags doesn't speak again, she simply watches the little girl who she helped raise. Finnick's face softens as he realizes that this year's game is going to be a difficult one for his former mentor. He quietly turns back to the screen just in time to hear a boy from district seven speak.

"_You're so innocent, little Annie,"_ he says, _"that's why I saved you."_

Finnick Odair shifts uncomfortably in is seat as the camera switches to this year's pack of Career tributes. Although he is now watching the faces of strangers, he thinks of that little girl-the one who he hardly knows and hopes that, for the sake of Mags, her death will come soon.


	3. A Whole New World

**Author's Note: (see chapter 1 for disclaimer)**

**I'm sorry for such a delay between updates, I'm back in school so there is hardly any time to breathe let alone keep up with my stories. So I apologize in advance and would also like to thank anyone who has taken an interest in the story =]**

**Thank you so much for reading and I would really appreciate your feedback!**

**Oh, and a little s****omething that I forgot to mention...the point of view will be changing every so often throughout the story. It will be in Annie's first person view for the most ****part but every once in a while it will switch over to third person to give a different perspective on certain events. **

**I hope you enjoy this chapter =]**

**Love, **

**AL**

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><p>We awaken to the sounds of the cannon echoing off of the tall, wispy trees under which we camp. Two more tributes are dead and dawn has just barely broken. I can't help but wonder who they are. Theo stretches beside me as I pull my clothes back on. The heat of the sleeping bag did the trick and my tank top is still warm and crisp as I pull it over my head. This year's wardrobe choice for the arena leaves much to be desired-a coarse, thick-strapped tank top which matches the washed out color of the desert sand that surrounds us paired with a baggy set of gray cargo pants. Either the pants were given to me a size too big or I've shed a few pounds in the last three days but regardless, I can hardly keep them secured at my waist.<p>

"I wonder who the casualties were," Theo ponders while rolling up the sleeping bag before stuffing it into his gray pack. "There are no casualties in the Hunger Games," I reply with a negative shrug and tuck my pants into the thick leather boots that we were given to wear. It's far from attractive but it _does_ help with keeping my pants in place. "You know what I mean." His tone is sour and I can't help but wonder if my poor attitude is beginning to rub off on him. I doubt it, since we have yet to consciously occupy the same space for a full twenty-four hours but he could just be someone who is easily influenced.

I wash my face in the stream and then stand to stretch my arms out in front of me. I am granted with a temporary moment of happiness as a rush of warmth floods through my aching muscles.

"Hungry?"

As if he has to ask. A hopeful gurgle sounds from my stomach. He smiles and my cheeks flush red. Despite what my stomach wants I refuse his offer of squirrel jerky and decide to survey the area instead. He makes noises of delight with every bite and smacks his lips together every time he chews but I know that he is only trying to get me to eat. I refuse to give in.

"No breakfast?" he says in between bites.

"No thank you-I don't accept food from strangers." I glance out at the desert as the sun begins to rise. The oasis isn't much-a small stretch of stream surrounded by some patches of grasses and weeds and a cluster of spindly trees. I can't see the cornucopia from here but I'm sure that this place is ridiculously visible from other places on the sand but still no on other than Theo has stumbled upon it and it certainly isn't a large enough space to conceal multiple people without them knowing of one another's presence.

"Aww, we're not strangers," he argues.

I shrug, "we're not friends."

I turn in time to catch a glimpse of him lightly chuckle. He's no longer eating but stands with the jerky in one hand and the duffel bag hanging limply from the other. "You have an odd sense of alliance, Annie Cresta."

I don't know why he keeps using my full name but it's beginning to make me uncomfortable. My eyes fall upon the jerky for a brief moment and suddenly there is just something that I can't understand. "Did that food come with the bag you found?"

Theo glances at the duffel bag and shakes his head, "I climbed a tree and caught the bugger by the tail. He put up a fight, see?"

He points to his neck. I hadn't been lucid enough to notice the bright, puffy scratches that ran from the bottom of his ear to his color bone. What I thought was a tan is actually the tinted hue that the blood left when it dried and peeled off of his skin. A small gasp escapes my lips and I clamp one hand over my mouth, not in surprise, but to prevent any other sounds of sympathy from coming out of me.

He shrugs, "Had to eat somehow. Anyway, it doesn't hurt. Hardly stings."

It's hard to imagine that the bark-like meat in his hands was once the creature that inflicted those angry marks upon him. I'm glad I decided against eating such a vicious creature for breakfast. "A tree? These are large trees but the branches are too thin to climb…how did you find a squirrel with a tree all the way out in the desert?" I ask, my curiosity returning. Theo narrows his eyes, throwing me a confused look. "Haven't you been by the lake?"

"The _what_?"

It almost sounded like he said lake. Maybe he did, maybe he actually saw one…a mirage, perhaps?

His eyes widen in surprise. "You haven't seen the rest of the arena?"

"The rest of the arena…" I mimic, struggling to find words of my own, "you mean there's more?"

Theo nods earnestly, "From the North to the West may be all desert but if you get far enough South you'll find the mouth of the lake-it's enormous! There are a good amount of trees there too."

I am beyond words. How could I have missed an entire side of the arena? An _enormous _lake side? _A LAKE? _Those days of drying, flaking, blistering in the unforgiving heat, of crawling through the sand while every last bit of water was sucked from my very soul. And all of the while there was a lake. Right here. In the arena. I press three fingers hard over my quivering lips so as not to scream. It takes every ounce within me not to do it. I want to tilt my head back to the sky and shriek away the pain.

I want to take the lump of frustration and pity and fear that sits heavy within me and thrust it out into the air for all to hear. But I can't, for so many reasons. Instead I take a deep breath. Inhale, exhale, and repeat.

_Haven't you been to the lake?_

…the lake. The place that I haven't been…but every other tribute probably has. It's most likely the only source of water aside from the oasis…it's amazing that there haven't been more deaths if such a spot exists. I glance up at Theo, suddenly elated. There haven't been many deaths, which means that the lake truly has to be _huge. _That is just what I need right now-a big body of water. Somewhere that I can dive deep into and swim away the residue of these awful games.

"Annie?" Theo asks, looking slightly concerned. I'm still in awe of how genuine and trusting he appears to be. I'm almost one hundred percent sure that this is a part of his act to survive but he saved my life so I might as well just go with it.

"Will you take me to the lake?" I sound too eager but it doesn't matter anymore. I want to die by the water. The lake is where I want to go.

He shrugs and slings the bag over his shoulder, "I thought you'd never ask."

And so begins our trek across the sand. At first I had assumed that it would just be a long walk across the desert, but Theo likes to talk. It feels like his voice makes the distance even greater. I can't zone out like usual and allow myself to shift into auto-pilot. His questions prevent that and it feels like he has oh-so-many questions.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Yellow," I reply dully. It shouldn't be, but it is. Not the yellow of the scorching sun or the sand or the palm-sized fruits that grow beyond the borders of District Four-it's the yellow tint that reflects off of the straw which lines the floors of hatchery sheds when the sun filters through the windows, the yellow glimmer of the scales of a fish as it whips its tail from side to side, or the yellow of the rising sun sending beams of light through the fog over the morning waters.

It's a different kind of yellow, a soft and delicate kind. He is waiting for me to ask him his favorite color in return but doesn't say it out loud. I make a note of this, adding it to the mental list that I have put together of the character traits he has displayed so far-genuine, trustworthy, curious, patient…the random tribute who happened to stumble across my vomiting carcass is turning out to be a real dream boat.

_No one is ever who they seem to be. _

I can practically hear Mags' wisdom ringing in my ears. Ever since I was a little girl she was on my case about being too trusting and once she became my mentor the reminders were even more severe. It's a good thing that I'm not planning to live through this. It makes me sad, thinking of what it is going to do to Mags when she has to watch me die…she and my father and sisters…

I expel such thoughts from my mind because even the mere idea of their grieving faces causes my eyes to sting with tears and I definitely cannot afford to lose any more precious water. I already hate that I have to pee. Even if it is my body's waste it still reminds me of how much liquid I'm losing per day. Finally, I'm forced to keep up the conversation since my mind is beginning to wander into hostile territory.

"What is yours?"

Theo's lips curl up into a small smile, as if he knew that I would come around eventually. I frown in return. His arrogance is a bit much for me but at least it hardly ever shows. I shudder…he's beginning to remind me of someone else I know.

"Purple." He is so sure of this answer-so confident in himself. I raise an eyebrow and question, "purple?"

"Yeah," he shrugs, "it's subtle, misleading. Often times in the woods near the lumber yards there are clusters of purple berries. They're always really plump and round and when you pop them between your fingers all of this juice will run down your hands."

My mouth waters at the mere mention of these berries, but there has to be a catch.

"They look delicious, but really they are poison. Because of these berries all of the animals have learned to stay away from the color purple. Over the generations their offspring adapted to recognize the color as a dangerous thing. It just seems like a really cool thing to me."

"It is," I give him a genuine reply. I had no idea that animals could adapt in such a way.

I can still see the oasis from here-just barely, but those wispy trees are still insight. We still have a long ways to go. I sigh. Theo's asking me something again but I don't really listen. Somehow his voice slows down time-as if nature itself stops to listen. It's not a bad thing, just…peculiar. It feels like he's unintentionally forcing the world to pay attention to his every word.

"Huh?"

"Tell me more about your district," he repeats as I throw myself back into the conversation.

I turn my gaze to the sky, but only for a moment. It is just enough time to catch a glimpse of blue before my eyes roll back to the sand through which we shuffle. The sun is so blinding that it is hard to look anywhere but down. "District four? Well, we fish." I shrug and he snorts amusedly in return. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm bothered by his reaction.

_You are so much more then fishing! Make your district proud!_

"And there's the ocean," I start back up, "and the docks and beaches…it's crisp and fresh and…absolutely nothing like this awful dust bowl. We always have a little bit of everything when it comes to weather…the mornings are often misty and gray but the fog burns off by the afternoon and its warm and sunny until night falls and the air turns cold. But not too cold…it's a good kind of chill. We don't have many birds, a couple of Mockingjays at most, but there are tons of crickets and they are always singing."

I glance over at Theo. He continues trudging through the sand, silent and pensive so I pick up where I left off, "I know that my district is often a part of the Careers…but we don't have many volunteers. Kids start working on the docks early on, so our tributes usually have some kind of experience. It's a really close knit place...all of the families know one another and help each other out…as if our suffering brings us together."

This grabs Theo's attention and his gaze has returned to me. A small smile plays on his lips, "I bet you guys don't get to keep the seafood you haul in, huh?"

I shake my head and he snorts as if to confirm his suspicions. "I don't think that district eleven gets to keep their produce either-just like we don't use our lumber to build houses of kindle our own houses. It's funny how that works out, isn't it?"

I don't know what to say to this.

He tilts his head back and sighs, "Your home sounds nice…I'd like to see the ocean."

I don't know what to say to this either, so instead I say what's on my mind, "I'd like to hear about your home too."

He gives me a sideways glance paired with a smirk, "maybe one day but we are almost to the lake now."

"Really?" relief drowns out the sound of my voice. He nods and points to the ground. I'm surprised I hadn't noticed it sooner. The earth beneath our feet has transformed from tiny grains into significant flakes of soil. I smile, suddenly ecstatic, and when I glance back up, Theo is smiling too.

Roots begin to appear in the dirt, and soon there is green. Green all around. Vines and leaves and other shrubbery deeply tangled into the soil. Our feet crunch carelessly against the liquid earth. The closer we get to the lake, the more the ground turns to mud, and the more sounds our boots utter with every stomp. Maybe Theo is secretly on guard. He looks normal, but perhaps beneath his determined façade he is actually monitoring every little thing going on around us. Or maybe not. Maybe he is every bit as clueless as I am right now.

I don't take the time to be alert. I don't look out for danger or listen for sounds. I'm afraid that if my eyes wander away from the mud that it will turn back into sand and my ears are no good-I have the hearing of a dead squid. It has gotten cooler though. I'm grateful for the few mangled trees that are tall enough to provide shade from that ball of fire in the sky. I'm surprised that the heat hasn't eaten holes through the broad leaves.

I've never seen such peculiar trees before. Their trunks are thin and pale, almost sickly looking, while their leaves are large and curved and broad. "Hey," Theo nudges me, "we're…"

I don't hear the rest of his words. Something bigger has caught my attention. Something much bigger. My dry eyes sting with the promise of tears but I fight them back at once. I will not cry. Not here, not now, and not with so little water left in my body. But that is about to change. Soon I will be hydrated with a belly full of water.

The lake is more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. After weeks of being away from my district, the lake causes a sweet calm to wash over me. Even if it is only a fraction of the ocean, it is rippling and magnificent in the evening sun. The shade of the trees is gone but the sun is beginning to set. Dusk is falling and the trip costed us a day's worth of finding food but it was undoubtedly worth it. Every little bit. Theo smiles and points to the shore before trotting down to the edge of the water and falling onto his knees. I smile and wrestle back a giggle that is trying to surface. Eventually I give in and laugh.

My first laugh since the reaping. Even if this place is swarming with all of the other tributes, it is a place of renewal. Something as vast and amazing as this lake was unfathomable to me when I first laid eyes upon the mounds of sound when we first entered the arena. This lake is a jewel hidden in the sand…it brings me hope. I'm not sure what I could possibly have to be hopeful for, but I am all the same.

I look out at the calm, murky waters and breathe in deep the cooling air. It reminds me of home.

"_Your home sounds nice…"_

Suddenly, while staring out at this gorgeous, shimmering body of water, a horrible thought seeps into my brain. What if Theo was only asking about my district to gain more knowledge about me? He knows everything about where I grew up and I know nothing about his background. What is this whole thing is just some elaborate ploy?

_Don't be stupid, _my conscience reprimands (as it often has to do from time to time in order to pull me back from the brink of delusion), _if he wanted you dead then he would have killed you by now._

Not if he wants to generate a better show. Befriend some useless wimp of a creature and pretend to be devastated when she's murdered. Play up the drama, gain popularity with the Capitol. My conscience has nothing to say to that. My eyes flicker over to the spot where he is kneels, splashing scoops of crystalline water all over his chapped face. I bite my lip, riddled with uncertainty. There is something about him…something that I just can't place. Even though he saved my life and led me to such a beautiful place…I can't help but wonder if I will ever be able to truly trust this baffling boy.


	4. Summer Moon

There is a certain danger which lies behind all things beautiful that always leaves the hairs of my arm standing on end. The lake is so surreal in its abundance and serenity that at times I feel as if Theo and I dropped dead somewhere back in the desert and were transported to this gorgeous place to rest. The cannon shots and the faces that ripple among the stars at night remind me that this notion could never be possible.

It's a nice thought though. Although I'm still not completely at ease with the male tribute from district seven, Theo is beginning to grow on me. He is as at home in the trees as I am in the water and the mere scent of the bark from the towering pines that surround us makes his eyes spark with exuberance. I work my way toward the surface with ease. The lake is a bit murky, so I'm hesitant to keep my eyes open for too long but the refreshing chill of the mountain run-off is silk against my skin.

Theo and I have been camping out by the lake for a whole three days without any signs of the other tributes, though we know that they are close. In these last few days four more tributes have been killed. Ten of us remain. My head disrupts the calm waters as it breaks through the surface. I take in a lungful of crisp air as droplets slide down my face and back into the rippling liquid from which they came. I scan the shoreline. Theo is nowhere to be found along the beach. I'm too far out to see our belongings packed tightly by the edge of the trees but even at this distance there is no way that I could miss his lengthy body against the rock-dappled shore. He's probably out hunting again. My stomach is still whining about the absence of lunch but it will have to make do with meager breakfasts and even smaller dinners.

I leisurely start my swim back to the beach. Even though there is a plethora of life scurrying beneath the undergrowth by the lake, Theo can only hunt so much on his own. I forage what I can but the animals eat all of the good berries, forcing us to gulp down whatever lies rotten in the dirt. The first day was excruciating but things have been a bit easier since a sponsor sent us a sharpened blade. I attempted to weave a trap out of nettles but they were too brittle and snapped after a few minutes. The nettles are too brittle, the leaves too soft, the plants too coarse, and the rest of the land is covered in rocks and sand.

My skills are wasted here-except for swimming, of course. My feet find the floor of the lake and I pause for a moment to dig my toes into the thick grains. Theo thinks that I should be more cautious while swimming-that something might be lurking in the depths of the water. I suspect that he's right. The lake is so big that I start to feel fatigued by the time I reach the middle, which is saying something. I'm sure that it's as deep as it is wide. I'm also sure that something circles beneath my dangling feet whenever I tread water, but I don't mind.

What happens will happen. I would rather greet death in the water than out on the sand. The cooling air causes my skin to prickle as first, my shoulders emerge. I'm about to get out of the water completely, when Theo's face appears from out of the trees. His eyes are wide with emergence and his lips drawn in a thin line. He slightly tilts his head to one side, and then the other in warning. I stand rigidly among the gentle waves, uncertain of whether I should run to or from the shore.

"Under the water," he mouths wordlessly, which doesn't help at all. _Get_ under the water or _there is something_ under the water? My heart flutters in a spastic state of panic as I don't know what to do. Very slowly, he makes a downward motion with his hands and mouths once more, "under the water."

In a leap of faith, I tuck my feet up under me and allow myself to sink below the surface. Just before my head goes under and my knees sink into the sand, I catch a glimpse of Theo's lean body crumpling to the ground. Chaos flares within me. It is hard for me to feel any concern when I'm surrounded by such serene waters but the worry is still faintly present. There is someone on the shore. Someone has found us, something is wrong.

I'm about to take in a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself, which is when the real panic sets in. I'm stuck under water. I can hold my breath for quite a while, but certainly not long enough to be sure that whatever is going on is over. And Theo, I can't just let him fend for himself on the land!

…or can I?

_No, you cannot! _My conscience reprimands. I sigh, but then catch myself when a bubble of oxygen escapes from my mouth and wanders to the surface. It's true-I can't let him face this alone, even if we are strangers. I plant my feet on the sand and slowly rise out of the water-only allowing for my eyes and nose to show. I feel like an alligator. My lungs groan, unhappy about the short and unsatisfying breaths that my nose supplies.

_It's better than nothing_, I have to remind myself.

The slimy lake water makes it hard to see the place where the trees meet the sand but my eyes manage to make it out alright. The orange hues of the setting sun are blinding and I can only see the darkened silhouettes of three figures. A million things race through my mind.

Are they careers?

Is one of them Theo?

Has he been captured? Or killed?

I didn't hear cannon shots…but maybe the water muted it?

My brain is about to explode when Theo's voice fills my partially submerged ears. "Annie!" he calls once, and then again. His voice isn't strained or hurt. It isn't a cry of desperation or a scream of agony. He sounds…normal. "Annie, you can come out now!"

It's alarming how fast I obey this command. I stand up and only think of the possible dangers of this situation after I'm out of the lake. This could be where he kills me. These two other people could be in a secret alliance with him, and-my mind goes blank as the two figures rest their eyes upon me. My cheeks flush red. I can't help feeling slightly embarrassed. My dark, soaking hair cascades down my body in a tangled mess while little droplets slide down my skin as I stand before them in a meager tank top and underwear. The air is beginning to turn cold with the setting sun and an involuntary shiver gets the best of me.

"_This_ is your partner?" one of the figures-a boy, asks incredulously.

Partner-is that what Theo is to me? Is that what I am to him? My face burns with a sense of guilt, which I hope that they overlook as further embarrassment. I suppose that it's time to face the fact that Theo is not just a stranger anymore.

"Isn't that the girl who got a two as her training score?" the other figure-a girl, inquires.

Dang. I didn't think anyone would remember that. Theo chuckles and pulls my cargo pants from his bag. He tosses them to me and I'm grateful that they are warm against my palms when I catch them. The trees muffle the winds a bit, but the nights here are still much colder than the one I spent at the oasis. Warm clothes definitely help take away the sting of the icy air. I hold the pants in one hand, waiting to dry before I slip them on.

"This is Annie," he introduces me with an amused grin and I narrow my eyes in confusion.

"What's going on?" I don't mean to sound so bitter, it just slips.

A sly smile crosses the girl's delicate face, "someone's not too happy."

I ignore her comment and keep my eyes trained on Theo. He's the one I want an answer from. He clears his throat casually, "we were right about not being the only ones on the lake. Ramona and Lachlan are the tributes from district five-they were hunting and we, um…ran into each other."

I furrow my eyebrows, still not glancing at either of the other people on the shore with us. "What does that mean?"

"It means that we have a new alliance," he clarifies.

I finally turn to the other two. I'm beginning to feel extremely silly now, so even though my legs have not completely dried I slip on my pants. The fit is even looser every time I put them on but they bring pleasant warmth to my legs so I don't mind having to continuously hold them up a my waist. "It's a pleasure," I smile.

"Likewise," Lachlan mutters dully and Ramona nudges him in the ribs with her elbow. He throws her a grumpy look. The sky is ablaze with color as the sun creeps further down the horizon. "They scared away a rabbit that I was about to get," my eyes flicker to Theo as he begins to explain in an apologetic tone, "so I ran back here to warn you…"

Ramona pipes in, "we thought he was one of the careers so Lachlan took him down. It's nothing personal, really."

"It never is." I shake my head with a small, understanding smile. They're acting as if we are all going to survive this. Maybe that's why there is so much tension in the air. We all know that three, if not all of us, will die. "We might as well stick together until we take down district one. They've been wrecking havoc all along the lake. There's no chance of any other district having a victor this year if we don't take them out of the picture."

So that's what this is. It was pure coincidence that Theo and I were stuck together, but these two have a plan. They are doing it for the greater good of the districts. Theo claps his hands together with a smile, "we have a lot to discuss, how about we settle down and start a fire first?"

The other two don't object. "Since we interrupted your catch, the meal is on us tonight," Ramona declares, which earns her an unpleasant look from Lachlan. Ramona throws daggers with her eyes in return. She definitely doesn't put up with his sour demeanor.

"Great," Theo comments, "Annie and I will get some stuff for a fire then, and we'll meet back here?"

Ramona sticks around to nod but Lachlan is already headed off into the trees. I follow Theo with great reluctance. Everything about this alliance screams uncertainty and I'm not too pleased about this suspicious decision.

_Hey, _my conscience pipes in, _two seconds ago you considered him a stranger. Don't make this into more than what it is; this boy doesn't owe you anything._

I take a deep breath. It's true, and it's what I tell him when he calls back through the undergrowth as we forage for dry wood, "Are you okay with this?"

"What do you mean?"

Theo pauses and glances back at me, "The alliance? Sorry I kind of ambushed you with it…it surprised me too, but they have a valid point."

"It's fine." I shrug, trying to appear indifferent while running my fingers along a piece of bark.

"Annie," he sighs heavily. It bothers me, the way he says my name makes it sound we've known each other for a longer time than we actually have. I'm about to peel off the bark when he interjects, "That isn't going to burn. It's still alive. Try to find something on the ground instead."

My fingers rest on the tree trunk for a moment before slipping away. I scan the mottled ground. There's not much. "No, I'm serious. I don't care. You don't owe me an explanation. It's a good plan. We are all dying anyway, might as well do it so that a more unfortunate district benefits from it."

"Really?" his voice is filled with skepticism as he speaks, "because it sounds like you're angry."

"_I'm_ angry? Don't be ridiculous." I hate that I can't hide the betrayal that lingers in my voice. I hate that I can never hide anything from anyone. Dying would be a lot easier if I could.

"Oh, that's right," Theo's sarcasm takes me by surprise and I guiltily meet his gaze as he continues, "you just don't care."

I don't like where this is going. I snatch a twig from the dirt. Its sickly bark is sharp and peeling. As hard as I try to maintain an even tone, my voice keeps wavering, "You think _I _don't care? About what? About the Games? About my sisters or life or the twenty-something innocent lives that have already or are going to be taken in this horrid place?" Somewhere among all of the questioning my voice gave out, and broke into a high-pitched mess.

He glares up at me with eyes so swollen with contempt that I can feel my own anger rising within me. It makes me want to punch him in that ruggedly sculpted face of his. He raises his broad arm into the air as he points to his chest with two fingers and lashes out, "I have people too! I know exactly how you are feeling! Like this is pointless, like we're all going to die-but this isn't defeat, it sacrifice! Do you even understand how selfish it is of you to just _want _to die? You have talent; you can navigate the water better than a freaking fish-skill that we can use to ensure that even if one of us doesn't win, someone who really needs it actually does!"

Theo's nostrils flare as his tirade comes to a close. I'm far past feeling despicable. No, that went out the door at the mere mention of his family. I sometimes forget that these people have people too. I focus on the pine needles that litter the floor, refusing to make eye contact. I'm not better than a guilty child. A guilty, selfish child. Neither of us moves, and even the forest is still. An unsettling silence rests between us. With my eyes hard on the ground, I speak up in a voice so delicate that I'm not certain whether or not the words actually leave my tongue, "Did they hurt you?"

"What?" I glance sideways, but only enough to see Theo's questioning face out of the corner of my eye.

I kick a pebble among the nettled ground, "Ramona mentioned that Lachlan took you down…are you hurt at all?"

"No," he breathes out lightly, the complexion of his cheeks slowly fading straying from the vibrant scarlet color that his frustration evoked. "That's good," I reply softly. Our eyes meet for a brief moment and the noise of our angry blunders through the trees slowly ebbs as the atmosphere calms, giving way to the gently lull of the crickets that accompanies the setting sun every evening before the winds begin. My eyes break away from his captivating stare to search the forest floor and I don't sneak a glance at his face again until we are heading back to the beach with our hands full of meager-looking bundled sticks.

The pair from Five is already placing their findings-a gnarled squirrel, a handful of nuts, and a decent pile of berries and leaves-upon an aggregation of stones to keep them from mixing in with the damp lake-side sand. "Is that twine?" Ramona's face scrunches as she squints at the bundles that we drop beside the rocks. "It's made from the fibers of the bark. I didn't want to lose anything on the walk back," I quietly explain.

The sharp oranges and pinks of the sun set reflect off of the tribute's tan, slender face and her skin glows with radiance as she looks up at me with a hint of bewilderedment. "Annie weaves," Theo elaborates upon my explanation with a casual shrug. "And you haven't made traps with this?" she asks incredulously, her tone edgy as if she is trying not to be hostile.

I shake my head and glance warily at her male counterpart, who is crouching in the sand while skinning the squirrel. "I have nothing to make traps out of. The nettles are brittle, the fibers don't weave tight enough to serve as accurate snares, they're temporary. Find me something more reliable and all weaves you all the nets and snares you'd like," I counter, louder this time, feeling the need to be stronger in front of these new allies than anyone else I've encountered.

Ramona doesn't reply, but rather lets out an annoyed 'huff' of air, trying to pass it off as a sigh. Theo bends down to spark the fire. I have never seen someone so adept with wood. In seconds a small flame is going and he places our bundles around it so that the fire may catch. He stands up and rubs his hands together to shake the sand from his palms. I can see the growing flames reflecting in Lachlan's eyes as he pauses to stare at the fire. Beads of squirrel blood, plump and crimson, rest on the serrated edge of his knife and a shiver runs down my spine. Beneath the fresh blood is a harder, thinner copper-colored substance that has dried onto the blade and looks as if it's beginning to flake.

I glance at Theo beside me. His gaze is fixated upon the computer-generated stars that are beginning to appear against the computer-generated night sky. My hearts sinks a little in my chest. I know that look-the one that he blatantly wears on his open face, the ones that tells me what he would never say. Just like the rest of us, he longs for home. I don't want to disrupt Theo or pull him from wherever distance place he has gone. I scan the shore line, glancing at the tributes from Five every few seconds just to make sure that two or three days from now the dried blood on the edge of Lachlan's hunting knife won't be mine of Theo's.

* * *

><p>"What about district Twelve? I can't remember the last time any of their tributes won the Games."<p>

"We weren't even born the last time they had a victor," Lachlan comments snidely. I don't think his statement is entirely accurate...but the point is clear, their only surviving victor is quite older. The four of us are positioned around the fire, our stomachs all slightly less empty after a less than satisfying meal.

Ramona dismisses his remark with ease and shakes her head, "Twelve is dead. Nine and Ten are as well."

"What about Eleven?" Theo inquires. The question feels empty, as if he already knows the answer.

I pull my knees up to my chest and murmur what everybody else already suspects, "They are both gone too."

The starry banner that appeared just moments before we settled down had informed us of the deaths of the boy from Three and the girl from Six. I didn't know either of their names. Theo's mouth twitches and for a moment there is nothing but the crackle of the flames until he goes on to fuel the conversation, "A girl from Eight is still alive…and a boy from Two. I think that the only pairs left are One, Four, and Five."

I can't distinguish the pride from the envy shining in Lachlan's eyes. There's a bit of the same sinful concoction in Ramona's as well. Their gazes find me immediately. I almost laugh. Almost. "The boy from your district is still alive?"

"Yeah," I reply quietly, "Willem is out there somewhere."

"Willem?" Theo repeats curiously, but I don't follow up his question with any new information. I don't want to talk about Willem…not tonight, not with any of them. It is getting late, but there won't be any sleep tonight. No one is going to be comfortable enough with this new alliance to even think of closing their eyes. "Why don't we make the Careers our first goal and then decide who is going to win once they are eliminated?" I suggest quietly, wrapping my arms around my knees as I draw them up to my chest.

The tributes from Five eye me warily. They don't look too eager about this plan, but Theo has my back, "she's right. That would be the best form of action. We have no way of knowing who the Careers might kill next. It would be foolish to decide which District we're going to save when their tribute could be out of the Arena before the sun rises in the morning."

"Yeah," Lachlan shrugs gruffly, "alright."

I try to hide my surprise at his sudden ability to agree with our suggestion, especially since I've only seen his obstinate side so far. Ramona agrees in a more enthusiastic, although somewhat false-sounding, tone and goes on to discuss battle tactics with Theo. He likes strategy. I tune out, finally starting to gain enough trust in the male tribute from Seven to hope that he will shake me from my daze in case of immediate danger.

I rest my head upon my knees and follow the shadowed horizon of the lake with my eyes until my gaze finds where the water meets the sky. There is no moon among the flat, twinkling stars so I picture it in my head-a large porcelain saucer, iridescent and tainted with the pale yellows and oranges of a twilit sky; a summer moon-one that is always accompanied by warm, crisp air and a calm atmosphere. I blink longingly at the static black square where my moon is supposed to be-a moon that I will never see again.


End file.
